Don't you just love the desire taking hold of you
by Tarafina
Summary: Instead of paying attention during a meeting, Oliver spends most of it telling Felicity what he wants to do to her as soon as it's over... and then he follows through with his promise.


**title**: Don't you just love the desire taking hold of you (well, I can tell you do)**  
>category<strong>: arrow  
><strong>genre<strong>: romance  
><strong>ship<strong>: felicity/oliver  
><strong>rating<strong>: nc-17/explicit  
><strong>for<strong>: rosietwiggs  
><strong>word count<strong>: 2,914  
><strong>summary<strong>: Instead of paying attention during a meeting, Oliver spends most of it telling Felicity what he wants to do to her as soon as it's over... and then he follows through with his promise.

_**Don't you just love the desire taking hold of you (well, I can tell you do)**_  
>-11-

There was a time when these meetings were the most boring part of her day. Then again, most things seemed boring when she was helping chase down some of the most dangerous criminals each night. But 'bored' was not how she was feeling now, not when Oliver kept leaning over to whisper in her ear under the pretense of sharing his thoughts about the current topic being presented to them. But he wasn't talking about financing or the future implications of the prototype they were being shown. No, he was telling her what he wanted to do to her, what he _would _be doing to her, if they weren't in a meeting at present.

"Are you wet yet? 'Cause I want to taste you. I wanna lick you until you're begging me… Your nails biting into my shoulders while I press you down on the desk and spread your legs for me…"

Felicity bit her lip, shifting in her seat and blinking quickly, trying to push back the haze of want and focus on the three middle-aged men across the table from them, with their visual displays and PowerPoint presentation.

Oliver looked stoic, unmoved by what he was hearing or what he saying, but she knew better. He was good at schooling his features when he wanted to, but he was picking at his thumb impatiently. And when someone directed a question at him, he'd hum, raise his eyebrow, and then nod, encouraging them to continue. It was obvious he wasn't paying attention to anything they were saying; he was just waiting for their chance to escape.

He leaned back in his chair, turning his head to her, his breath skittering over her ear. "I'm gonna fuck you against the wall when we're done here. Leave your heels on, let them dig into my back. You're wearing that lace thong I like, aren't you? The green one."

A tiny noise escaped her throat and her fingers squeezed around her pen.

She could feel his smirk against her ear. "I'm gonna use it to tie your hands behind your back when I bend you over the desk, and then I'm gonna get down on my knees and lick you until you can't take it… I can already taste you, feel you dripping down my chin... You always taste so sweet."

Felicity's eyelids fell to half-mast and she remembered last weekend… Digg had gone home early to get in some time with Lyla before they met back up that foundry and Oliver was going over some last-minute proposals dropped in his lap. He traded out the papers for her and hiked her skirt up her hips as she rode him in his chair. She could almost feel his fingers, circling her clit, tugging on it, while he licked and bit his way up her neck, telling her how good she felt, how hard he was for her, how he loved the sounds she made. And his hand, wet with her, kept pulling her lip out from his teeth so she couldn't muffle herself.

This totally wasn't fair. She could barely think coherently and she was squeezing her thighs closed both in an effort to stop letting him affect her and because the pressure felt good. Usually, his hand would have drifted over and slid under her skirt by now, but he seemed to be enjoying how much he could wind her up with just his words. She knew she was flushed and she was careful to keep her breathing steady even though she was getting worked up, her imagination getting away from her. It helped that he'd already done everything he'd mentioned.

The last time he tied her hands behind her, they'd been in his bed at Queen Manor. She'd been sitting on his stomach, rocking herself back and forth, her clit dragging over his ridiculously defined abs. And he'd watched her, arms tucked behind his head, that dark, feral look in his eyes. She begged him to touch her, her knees biting down into the mattress, desperation making everything ache. And when she couldn't take it anymore, he'd reached a hand down and stroked her, his callused fingers rubbing and plucking her clit until she came so hard her vision went white. He laid her back on the bed after, untying her hands and rubbing her wrists, kissing her palms where her nails had bit into the skin. Then he spent a good long time kissing her from head to toe, until she was just a puddle of satisfaction.

She always loved the aftermath. Oh, she loved when it was happening, too. Oliver was the most intense person she knew, and that translated into their bedroom, without a doubt. But he was also very tender, very loving afterwards. Passion wasn't always quick and hard and heady. It could be slow and sweet, and he loved showing her how much he cared, how much he appreciated her.

Right now though, she wasn't thinking about how he'd hold her tightly after, pressing lingering kisses to her neck or stroking her hair. No, she was thinking about what he wanted to do to her.

"If you'll just give us five more minutes, Mr. Queen, I'm sure we can convince you this is exactly what Queen Consolidated needs," one of the men across the table said.

Felicity glanced up, briefly forgetting where she was.

"You have five minutes," Oliver agreed simply, before he turned his head and told her, "Five more minutes and then I'm going to yank your skirt up and finger you until you scream. And while you're still coming, I'm going to wrap your legs around my head and make you come again and again. And just when you don't think you can come anymore, I'm gonna fuck you until you you do."

With that, he turned back to the meeting.

It was the longest five minutes of her life.

While Oliver was shaking hands and telling them to leave a file with him and he'd get back to them by the end of the week, Felicity didn't leave her seat. She wasn't sure her legs would hold her.

Since the conference room was too open a space, Oliver took her elbow to help her up. Felicity's thighs were so slippery, she whimpered.

He stroked a hand down from her neck to her backside and she felt her knees shake. She glared up at him, but it only made him grin. His hand moved back up to the small of her back as they left the conference room and took the elevator up to his office. Thankfully, the only people on his floor were him and her. She walked ahead toward her desk, considering for a moment that she might want to tease him a little for what he'd put her through in the meeting, but she wasn't sure she wanted to wait any longer than necessary.

So when he pressed up against her, his hands smoothing down her ribs and around to her stomach, she let herself lean back, her head on his shoulder.

She didn't protest when he pulled her blouse from her skirt, unbuttoning it with precise and quick movements of his fingers. She didn't stop him when he cupped her breasts, kneading them through her purple satin bra, thumbs thrumming over her nipples as he pressed his hips against her, the hard length of him more than a little obvious as it pressed up against her ass.

He kissed her neck, nosing her hair out of his way, and dragged his teeth over her skin. While he walked them into his office, her feet stumbled a few times. Oliver dropped one hand down to pull her skirt up, pausing to sink his fingers between her thighs and cup her. He growled against the crook of her neck as he found her soaked. He stroked her through the wet fabric of her underwear and she jerked against him, needing more friction, more pressure, bare fingertips pressed up against her without the barrier.

She wanted to ask him which one he was going to do. Fuck her against the wall, over the desk, or eat her until she was dizzy. Was he going to tie her hands or leave them loose to scratch his back? She pressed her hands down onto his desk and bent forward, rubbing herself up against him. All she knew was she wanted something, anything; she needed him to touch her, to fuck her. She needed _him_.

He had her skirt rucked up to her waist and her underwear half down her legs when the phone rang. He ignored it completely. One time, instinctively, she'd answered the phone, playing the proper EA, but she couldn't remember one thing the person on the other end had said when Oliver had her spread out over the desk, fucking her so hard so she could barely breathe. Suffice to say, that person had to call back later. This time, she left the phone to ring and focused on him. He dropped to his knees behind her and licked up her slit, squeezing her thighs before he spread them and buried his mouth against her.

Felicity cried out, pressing back against his lips, her toes curling inside her heels, hands scrambling for some kind of purchase on his desk.

He dragged his fingers down the back of her thighs, his blunt nails making her shiver until they reached her knees. He knew she was ticklish; in reply, she slapped a hand down on top of his desk and panted his name. He chuckled against her, the vibrations making her suck in air sharply, and then his teeth were gently squeezing her clit, and tears of frustration were biting at her eyes.

"_Please, please, please_…"

He rubbed down her legs, kneading her calves, and then slid them back up, squeezing her ass as he licked her, intent on taking his time, making her beg for it. He was teasing her, sucking and licking and dragging his teeth over every inch of her pussy until she was grinding back against him, sobbing his name. And then he was standing, his fingers sliding into her, crooking, rubbing, making her see stars as she held still, letting him fuck her just like that.

When his fingers left her, she sputtered curses at him, rocking her hips side to side. She shifted her legs, letting her underwear fall to her feet, and stepped out of them before spreading her legs wide. But then he was turning her over, his arm around her waist, and he was lifting her. She loved when he did that; he could be a show off, but she was complaining. Her brain was quick to remind her of last night, when she had him hanging from the salmon ladder, his pants around his ankles as she took him into her mouth. The sinewy muscle that stretched and trembled as she ran her hands over him, from thigh to stomach while she sucked the hard length of him between her lips, her tongue stroking. When he came, he barely managed to hold on, and she'd watched every beautiful muscle tighten up, shiny with sweat, before he finally let go with a cracked shout of her name. She wanted that. She'd happily drop to her knees right now. But he was pressing her back against the wall, his pants dropping to the floor, and there was the familiar rustling of a condom wrapper before he was lining himself up.

She reached down, batting his hand away, and stroked his shaft, her free arm circling his shoulders, nails lightly scraping over his back. And then she was rubbing the head of his cock over her clit and down her slit before she readjusted her hips and slid him home. Her breath left her in a rush, a little, cracked noise escaping her lips. His mouth slanted over hers and she sighed, tasting herself on his lips and his tongue.

It was hard and quick after that, thrusting hips and hands squeezing her thighs and her ass as he fucked into her with all the pent up frustration of the last hour. Her heels were digging into his thighs and her nails were biting into his neck as she met each thrust with a roll of her hips, squeezing the length of him as he buried himself to the hilt.

He bit at the edge of her mouth, kissing down her chin and pressing sucking kisses down her neck. She tugged on his hair to make him stop; if he left any hickeys behind, she was going to kill him. She was not dealing with the knowing looks of his employees. They might know they were sleeping together, but they didn't need to see the proof of it, especially at work.

Oliver dropped his head down to leave his marks somewhere less conspicuous; the tops of her breasts. So much for that scoop-neck dress she bought yesterday. She shouldn't be surprised; Oliver was always very proud of the little reminders he left behind of their time together. The first time they slept together, he sucked a hickey onto her hip, and for the rest of the day, he touched that spot, hidden behind her skirt, and smiled to himself. Once, when he'd fucked her from behind on the mats in the foundry, he left a litter of them down her back, and, after she'd redressed, he periodically touched each one, like he'd memorized exactly where he'd left them. She thought it might be a little harder to do that when they were left on her chest, but then, Oliver wasn't all that shy about touching her. He'd become more and more comfortable with reaching out over the years.

While QC thought they'd been together since before she was promoted, the truth of it was, they'd only been together eleven months, more than two years since Oliver took over as CEO and she'd become his reluctant EA. Four months ago, he'd officially introduced her as his girlfriend at a charity benefit he was hosting and all the curious gossipers could finally stop getting excited over every time he touched her elbow or her shoulder. He was doing a lot more than that.

He sucked a nipple between his lips while his hand slid between them, fingers stroking over her clit. She threw her head back, squeezing her legs around him, and bit down hard on her lip. He hated when she did that.

"I wanna hear you," he told her, his free hand raising to stroke over her mouth.

She nipped at his fingers, but let her mouth fall open, her eyes squeezed shut as she felt the build-up finally reach its peak.

She shouted his name, her body stretched tight as the string of his bow, and then it released and she sagged against him as he panted against her lips, her name a chorus of relief.

She hummed as he kissed her; sloppy, lingering kisses that spoke of bone-melting satisfaction. It took him a minute before he could lift her up and let her down to her feet, while he moved to discard of the condom.

She leaned back against the wall, her hand on her stomach, legs still shaking. She took a minute, both to enjoy the way her orgasm was still making her body buzz and to come down from it.

She jumped a little when she felt him licking up her thigh. Looking down, she found his pants back on as he knelt in front of her. He curled a hand behind the back of her knee as he licked up her wet thigh and kissed her clit. Shaking her head, she slid a hand under his cheek. Tongue outstretched, he licked her, making her shake, and then he was kissing up her stomach, biting lightly around her navel. He tugged her skirt down, smoothing it out, and climbed up her body, kissing as he went. He rubbed his hands down her sides soothingly before he readjusted her bra and pulled her blouse closed, buttoning it up and tucking it into her skirt as his face buried against her neck.

This… This was the best part. Women all around the world had probably been fucked three ways from Sunday by Oliver Queen, but none of them were loved by him quite like she was. She smiled as his mouth finally found hers and looked up into his eyes, full of satisfaction and happiness and complete and total adoration. He kissed her once, twice, three times before he pressed his lips to her forehead and stepped back. When he walked back to his desk, he grabbed up her ruined underwear and tucked them in his pocket, winking back at her with a promise of _later _lingering between them.

"Will that be all, Mr. Queen?" she asked, pushing off the wall.

"How's my lunch look, Miss Smoak?"

She snorted as she walked toward the bathroom. "Debauched."

He chuckled after her. "That's just the way I like her."

Her cheeks flushed but she couldn't keep herself from smiling. She'd have to go the rest of the day without underwear, but, all things considered, it was more than worth it. Of course, he was a man of his word, so he still had a few more things to do to her before the day was out. Felicity wasn't complaining.

{**end**.}

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><p><strong>author's note<strong>: _Writing smut while sick is not nearly as easy as it usually is, so I hope this is coherent, lol. _

_You can all thank **RosieTwiggs** for this burst of smutty inspiration! :) _

_Thank you all for reading! Please leave a review! They're my lifeblood!_

- **Lee | Fina**


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